


Dean Winchester's Guide to Vampire Hunting

by NeverAndAlways



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Childbirth, Dean-Centric, Gen, Hunters & Hunting, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Mild Blood, Mpreg, Not Beta Read, Pregnant Dean, Swearing, Vampire Hunters, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 03:52:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7206578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverAndAlways/pseuds/NeverAndAlways
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>My computer of five years just up and died a few days ago, so I'm writing this from my phone. Apologies for any typos.</p><p>Also, be forewarned: this fic does contain a fairly bloody scene. Nothing horrible, but if that grosses you out you might not want to read it.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My computer of five years just up and died a few days ago, so I'm writing this from my phone. Apologies for any typos.
> 
> Also, be forewarned: this fic does contain a fairly bloody scene. Nothing horrible, but if that grosses you out you might not want to read it.

"This is risky."

"What, you just now realized that?"

"No I'm serious, this is really dangerous."

"Our whole job is dangerous. We wouldn't be Hunters if we couldn't deal with it."

From the passenger seat, Sam looks at his brother and sighs the sigh of a man trying very hard to be patient. "What I meant is, maybe you should be lookout for this one."

"No dice, Sammy. We both agreed to doin' it this way."

"But you're-!"

"Exactly. Which is why I'm bait and you're lookout. End of story." Dean parks the Impala, turns it off, and sits for a moment in thought. "Look...we're armed to the teeth here. We've got stakes, silver bullets, a crucifix-" he counts on his fingers as he talks "-salt, iron, an' holy water, and daggers - including Ruby's knife. We even have garlic. Whatever happens in there, we'll be prepared." he shrugs. "And, worst case scenario, we can call Cas."

Sam stares out through the windshield. "He hasn't answered any prayers for over a month...no offense, but what makes you think he'll answer now?"

"For fuck's sake, Sam, would you give it a rest? It's fine."

Sam wisely says nothing. Dean opens the door and heaves himself and his belly out of the car, then shuffles around to the trunk. After a moment, his brother follows.

""'m sorry." he says as Dean hands him a stake and a pistol.

"No big deal." Dean slips a dagger into his belt next to Ruby's knife. There's not much room. "Can't blame you for being worried. I'm just tired of sittin' around, and this might be my last Hunt for a long time. I mean, once the kid gets here." he loads the rest of his supplies into a bag.

"Mm." Sam takes a dagger for himself, and they close the trunk. They're parked at the top of a long, tree-lined driveway; evening sunshine slants through the branches. The house itself is abandoned, at least at first glance. But multiple sightings and one disappearance say otherwise, so their job is to find the vampire responsible and take it out. And, if possible, find the disappeared kid. Dean is the bait, much to his brother's distress. The idea is that he, being pregnant, will be more appetizing and more likely to draw it out of hiding. Sam is the lookout. He'll be staying here with the car to head off any intruders, human or otherwise.

It's the best compromise they could come up with.

Dean tugs his shirt down over his belly. Somehow his Hunting gear - jeans, T-shirt, and button-up - makes it look even bigger. Which, to Sam's mind, is just another reason not to do this. But he says nothing, and tucks his dagger into his belt.

"You ready?" asks Dean, now holding his belly.

"Are you?"

"Always." Dean grins, cheeky as ever. "Let's get this sonuvabitch."

 

* * *

 

This house is huge. The sun is nearly down by the time Dean has finished his sweep of the place. After salting the perimeter (just in case), he settles in the main room. Just one thing left to do now. He goes to the center and draws his knife. More than a little reluctantly, but it's part of the plan...he holds out his hand and, with the tip of the blade, draws a short, straight line across the meat of his thumb. He grits his teeth. Dark blood wells up behind the blade; he tilts his hand to let a few drops fall onto the floor. Vampire bait. Once there's enough, he pulls his hand back and immediately wraps it tight with a length of cloth from his pocket. The baby kicks almost reproachfully.

"I know, I know." he whispers. "But what else am I gonna do?" he retreats a few feet away to the couch, which is more than a little threadbare. But he's tired and sore, and it's soft. Or soft-ish. Anyway. He gets as comfortable as he can, and settles in to wait.

"Alright, you bastard. Come and get me."

* * *

The stakeout (heh) turns out to be a lengthy one. The sun sets. The moon comes out. A breeze climbs in through a broken window and drifts through the house, flapping in the curtains and jingling the dusty old chandelier.

Sam calls a few times. Dean would rather he didn't. If the monster is already in the building, he doesn't want it to overhear. But Sam is Sam. He worries. So Dean keeps his tone cheerful and the conversations as short as possible.

And still he waits.

He calls Castiel a few times. They all boil down to same thing: where are you, I miss you, call me back. He never gets an answer.

Sometime around the two-hour mark (or is it three?), it occurs to him that something hurts. A lot. He tries to refocus. Where's it coming from? Not his hand; if he was hurt elsewhere, he would've - oh. Damn.

As the pain rebounds and builds up again, he realizes exactly where it's coming from, and what it is. He puts a hand to his belly and waits. Five minutes, ten minutes...there it is again. The muscles tighten under his hand and he keeps still, letting it pass through him. Then he moves his hand away once it's over. "You have the worst timing, you know that, kiddo?"

Fantastic. Trust Cas' kid to be early. At least first labors are slow; he'll be out of here in plenty of time. Brushing aside a stab of fear, he settles back again. And keeps waiting.

 

* * *

Five hours. This is really getting old. The contractions, which started as a diversion from the boredom, are now a problem in their own right. Keeping eyes and ears out for danger is a lot harder when your guts are folding in on themselves every five minutes.

Dean stands up and tries to stretch a knot out of his back. Freakin' vampires.

"C'mon, you sonuvabitch, where are you?" he mutters sourly. "I'm right here. I know you can smell me."

He waits. The breeze picks up and knocks some papers off a table, and it seems that's all the answer he's going to get. The house is silent. So he eases himself back down on the couch and pulls out his phone.

"Hey."

"Dean? How's it going?" Sam's voice is thick with static.

"Boring as hell. I think we've been had, Sammy."

There's a sigh on the other end. "Alright. You w*** me to **e down a** *e********k up?"

"What? You're breaking up, say that again."

"Hang o** **** **-"

"Sam, you-"

Silence. The line is dead. Dean swears and drops his phone on the couch. He can try again in a few minutes. In the meantime, he starts to pack up his things.

The iron and holy water make it back into the bag, and the salt is almost there when he's interrupted by a contraction. Dean hisses through his teeth. You're not helping, kiddo. Breathing hard, he shuts his eyes and waits it out, and only when it's passed does he continue. Salt, crucifix, garlic...what else?

"Looking for something?"

Hunting instincts bring him to his feet even as he draws his knife. There's a figure just a stone's throw behind the couch. No fancy tux or velvet cape, just jeans and sweatshirt and baseball cap. They smile. Their face is decidedly average and would almost be pleasant, if it weren't for the fangs.

"Hey. How's it goin'?"

"Oh, you know, sitting in the dark in an abandoned house for five hours." Dean's voice drips with sarcasm. "Peachy."

"And hella pregnant."

Dean's free hand hovers over his belly. "That's none of your business."

"Whatever." the vampire smirks. They extend their hand. "I'm Chase, by the way."

"...Charmed."

When Dean doesn't shake his hand, Chase puts it in his pocket instead and begins to amble around the room. "Nice of you to visit though, man. Don't get many people up here." he pauses. "Human people, I mean. An' the ones that do come here are all just hella stupid-"

"Look, Chase." Dean interrupts. He doesn't have time for this. "We both know why I'm here; cut the crap. Where is he?"

"Who?" again with that smile.

"You know who. And you better tell me, or this knife is goin' in your throat."

Chase snorts in amusement. "You Hunters really like to play the superhero, huh?"

"It's kind of our job."

"Yeah, well, you don't hafta worry about this one anyway. He's gone."

This gives Dean pause. "What do you mean, 'gone'?"

"I mean, he's gone. Death by sun tan. Poof." Chase takes his hands out of his pockets and pantomimes an explosion. "He did it to himself. You missed your chance, bro. Now you just got me to talk to."

Dean gives him a calculating stare. "God, you're a bad liar."

"Hm?" Chase looks up from examining his nails.

"You killed him, didn't you."

The vampire appears to consider this for a moment. Then he shrugs. "I encouraged him, does that count?"

"It doesn't make you any less of an asshole."

"I'm cool with that." Chase ambles around behind Dean, who turns on his heel to face him. "Look: even if I hadn't "killed" this dude-" he says with finger-quotes "-he wouldn't have lasted a week anyway. He was a shitty vampire. But you, on the other hand..." he circles Dean in a way that's eerily reminiscent of a snake. "You've got Hunting skills an' shit. You'd be **good**. And I could just Turn you right now; two for the price of one." suddenly his grin turns into a snarl, and he lunges toward Dean. Just as suddenly, Dean ducks out of the way, turns, and kicks him off his feet.

Chase picks himself up. There's a trickle of blood from his nose, and his grin has an unhinged look to it. Dean stands his ground, brandishing his knife and trying to stay focused. He's right in the middle of a contraction, but damned if he's going to let this guy know about it.

"Oh, you're lots of fun." purrs Chase. "I love it when they fight back." He stands up and holds out his arms as though about to take a bow. "Do it again, bro, try an' get me." there's something childish in his voice that makes Dean's skin crawl. No way is he falling for that. He doesn't move.

Chase drops his hands to his sides. "Alright, I got an idea."

"What's that."

"Let's make this fair. You can stab me all you want...if you can find me." and before Dean can say a word, Chase vanishes. Dissolves from the ground up, so that the last thing to disappear is his toothy grin.

Dean looks around. "How is that fair??"

"Come and get me," Chase's voice croons.

Freakin' vampires. Dean scans the room for signs of movement, any shimmer in the air that might tell him where this guy is. There's a growing pressure in his hips; baby's moving down. He silently wills it to stay put just a little longer.

The chandelier jingles faintly, raining dust. Dean steps away from it and toward the couch. "Hey, Chase." he says to the room at large. "I have an idea too. Come down here a minute and I'll tell it to you."

A curtain flaps. "Nice try, dude. Get away from the pointy things and I might believe you."

"Hey, I'm pregnant, I can't be on my feet all the time. And this is the only place to sit down in here."

"I'm not that dumb."

Aren't you? Then how did I get you talking? Dean slowly reaches for his pistol, already loaded with silver bullets. The voice is moving down the north wall, if he can just get it a little closer...

"No, I'm serious, we can talk this out. Make a deal."

"What kind of deal?"

"Like...get you access to a blood bank, maybe?" a contemplative silence. Dean presses on, determined to finish this thought before the next contraction. "Or I could get you someone else to Turn. I've been a vampire before, it's not really my thing. But I bet I could find you someone good. Like, Type-O blood. If that's what you're into."

"How do I know you're not lying?" finally, the voice is moving closer. Pretending to lean back into the ratty cushions, Dean slips his finger over the pistol's trigger.

"You just have to trust me. And if I don't keep my promise, you can personally come and hunt me down. Scout's honor." he puts a hand on his belly. The muscles are already tightening for another contraction, a minute too soon; he tries to ignore it.

The voice snickers. "I dunno, man, that's pretty tempting." the voice moves in front of a window, and out of the corner of his eye, Dean sees a faint shadow move with it. "But you're here, an' I hate to pass up a good opportunity..."

"Yeah, me too. Like this one." in one smooth movement Dean cocks the pistol, aims, and fires. There's a yell from the darkness and Chase, fully visible, crumples to the floor holding his bloodied arm.

"You **asshole**!" he gasps.

"Takes one to know one." Dean's voice is just slightly strained; the contractions are ramping up. "Still wanna talk it out?"

With a screeching hiss, Chase rears up off the floor and charges. He's almost inhumanly fast, and Dean barely has time to react before he's pinned to the arm of the couch with a face full of fangs. Somehow he manages to pull Ruby's knife and hold it to the vampire's throat. His pistol, dagger, and most of his other supplies go skittering away across the floor. His free hand is stuck beneath Chase. He knees the guy in the stomach to get him to move, but Chase just laughs.

"Sorry, bro. Looks like you're outta options." his eyes are slitted and glowing a dark, dangerous red. He opens his mouth wider and leans in, not seeming to care about the blade pressing into his neck. But the slight shifting of weight gives Dean an opportunity: he wriggles his arm loose and reaches behind his back. He has one more trick up his sleeve...his fingers close around something heavy and solid. And just as the vampire gets close, he brings the stake around and up - and through. It finds its mark; Chase gurgles and reels back, enough for Dean to push him off. He looks down with bewilderment at the stake protruding from his chest.

"...Dude." he sounds more offended than anything. "Not cool."

And with that, the vampire is no more. He turns to ash as Dean looks on, and falls into a pile with the stake in the middle. Some of it falls on Dean; he hurriedly brushes it off. Then he sits for a long moment, catching his breath. He picks up his phone. No service.

Great.

Another contraction takes him by surprise and almost knocks him off the couch. What was that, two minutes? It's a tight, searing pain that bends him in half around his belly and leaves him breathless.

"I know, sweetheart. I hear you." he massages his belly as the contraction ends. "Just hang in there, okay?" he stands up - wincing in the process - and grabs his phone. Need to get someplace safer, first. And hopefully find a signal.

 

* * * 


	2. Chapter 2

"Cas. Answer me, dammit." Dean hisses. There's no reception anywhere in this freaking house, and Sam's too far away to hear him, so he's praying as loud as he can."I know you can hear me." a contraction tears through him; feels like there's a bowling ball wedged in his pelvis. He doubles over with a groan and his next words are more of a whine. "Babe, please. I need you."

Damn, it hurts. Adrenaline from the Hunt must have kicked things into overdrive. His water broke barely five minutes after he staked that vampire, and the contractions have been fast and hard ever since, with no sign of stopping. Leaning back again once it's over, he allows himself a wry smile. How is any of this even real? He's giving birth to an angel's kid (which is weird enough if he thinks about it too long) in the master bedroom of a creaky old abandoned house, with a pile of dead vampire in the next room. Why does everything in his life have to be so weird?

The pain rebounds with a vengeance. It's even tighter now, his whole midsection is squeezing in on itself but finally, something gives. A small something, but it's like a single rock starting a landslide. He's turning a corner; this is the final stretch. He gets up long enough to strip from the waist down. Then he removes his jacket, spreads it out on the bed, and climbs back up so he's sitting on his haunches over it. His hand strays to his belly and finds it hard and tight. Here goes.

The next one hits him like a freight train. And the next one, and the one after that. Fuck, it burns! The weight in his belly is still moving down and out, building the pressure in his hips until he feels like he might explode.

"Cas, come ON...!" his voice crescendoes into a yell. It bounces harshly off the wooden walls. He feels something, a flutter, like recognition. Not so much an answer as acknowledgement. He says the name again, putting as much power into it as he can spare. "Cas...Castiel." he grits out between sharp breaths, "Babe, it's happening. It's - I need you here, Cas. I need you. I need-" the sentence gets bitten off with a groan. When he's able to speak again, he growls. "Get your feathery ass down here!"

Then he's lost. He didn't think this could hurt any worse but goddamn, does it ever! There's no way he can keep quiet now; as the contraction wraps itself around him, he lets out a long, rough-edged scream.

Sam will have definitely heard that one.

Dean gasps for air. The pressure isn't just in his hips now, it's between his legs, ripping him apart. It's time. Gotta push. So he takes a breath and does just that. The stretch and burn is so intense that he thinks, for one terrifying moment, that he actually is going to tear in half. He lets out a panicky little sound as he hunches around his belly and pushes again. The head's already coming: reaching down between his legs, he can feel the curve of it. Two contractions later, it's out. He gives himself a moment to breathe, try and pull himself together.

The old house settles with a hollow knocking sound. And there's another sound, almost like a...wait. It **is** a voice. A familiar one. Sam. He takes a breath and shouts his brother's name, but it comes out a little strangled as another contraction starts. And he doesn't have the capacity for anything else beyond that, as his body bears down automatically and the shoulders begin to force their way out. He yells, hoarse with exertion, and hears footsteps in the distance.

"Sammy! In here!" Dean yells. Almost there, almost...he reaches down as the arms emerge and pulls gently while he pushes. And just as his brother's footsteps close in, his baby slithers into the world.

He sits back on his haunches and brings the little newborn up to his chest. A split second later, his little brother sprints around the corner into the room.

"I heard screaming and you weren't answering your phone and I -" his brain catches up to his eyes and he skids to a halt. "Oh my god."

"Hey Sammy." Dean makes a weak effort to sound nonchalant. The baby yowls against his shirt.

"Oh my god, are you okay??" Sam flips into protective-brother mode and strides to the bed. He hovers there, unsure of what to do.

"You really hafta ask?" rasps Dean.

"Well - I mean - I saw the stake out there, and the ashes, and it's been almost six hours-"

"Whoa. Sammy, Sammy. Chill. Look at me. I'm alive." barely. "The vampire isn't; we did our job. The kid...wanted out early, I guess." he finishes lamely, as the last of his energy leaves him. Suddenly he realizes exactly where he is and what just happened, and he is immensely tired. "...Let's just go home."

* * *

The next few minutes are a blur of activity. The cord is cut and the afterbirth disposed of; Dean gingerly gets dressed and wraps the baby up in his jacket. And then, slowly (with a stop to collect Dean's scattered equipment), Sam leads his exhausted brother out of the house.

A figure runs to greet them the second they get through the door.

"I got 'im, he's alright." says Sam to the figure.

"Oh, thank Heaven." it breathes. "Dean-" it turns to him.

"Cas??" Dean croaks. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard your prayers." Cas says gently.

"So why the hell weren't you there?"

"The house is covered in protective wards. Strong ones. Only vampires and humans can get in and out." Dean falls silent and fusses with his jacket. "You know I would have been there otherwise." says Cas.

"...Yeah, I know." a breeze picks up, and the baby squirms and whimpers a little at the sensation. Even in the dark, Dean can almost see Cas' eyes light up. He smiles. "Wanna come meet your son?"

Sam guides him to the car with Cas at his heels. Once Dean's settled in the back seat, the angel slips in beside him. Sam climbs into the driver's seat.

Under the yellowish dome lights, Dean and Castiel take their first look at their baby.

"Dean, he's perfect." Cas' voice is almost reverent. He scoots in close so that he's shoulder-to-shoulder with the Hunter.

Dean manages a half-smile. Maybe one-fourth. "Yeah...came out quick. 'Bout half an hour after I took down the vampire."

"Hm. Efficient."

"Hurt like hell." Dean slides down on the leather seat and rests his head on Cas' shoulder. None of this feels real. "Next time, it's your turn."

Cas chuckles. "Very well." he kisses the top of Dean's head. "I'm proud of you, Dean."

"Mm." another small smile. Trees slide past the windows. "...Cas, I am so damn tired."

"Then sleep. I'll watch over you both." Cas gently takes the baby from the Dean's unresisting hands and holds him close. Silence drapes itself over the car. Sam smiles to himself. And they drive on.

 

oO00Oo 

**Author's Note:**

> If you like the story, please leave a comment - I'd love to hear from you!


End file.
